The Age of Faith Page 5
V. JOURNEY’S END
His last great dream was to rival Alexander and Trajan: to plant the Roman standards in the Persian capitals, and end once and for all the Persian threat to the security of the Roman Empire. Eagerly he organized his army, chose his officers, repaired the frontier fortresses, provisioned the towns that would mark his route to victory. In the fall of 362 he came to Antioch, and gathered his troops. The merchants of the city took advantage of the influx to raise prices; the people complained that “everything is plentiful but everything is dear.” Julian called in the economic leaders and pled with them to restrain their profit seeking; they promised, but did not perform; and at last he “appointed a fair price for everything, and made it known to all men.” Perhaps to force prices down he had 400,000 modii (pecks) of corn brought in from other cities in Syria and Egypt.52 The merchants protested that his prices made profit impossible; they secretly bought up the imported corn, took it and their goods to other towns, and Antioch found itself with much money and no food. Soon the populace denounced Julian for his interference. The wits of Antioch made fun of his beard, and of his laborious attendance upon dead gods. He replied to them in a pamphlet, Misopogon, or Hater of Beards, whose wit and brilliance hardly became an emperor. He sarcastically apologized for his beard, and berated the Antiocheans for their insolence, frivolity, extravagance, immorality, and indifference to the gods of Greece. The famous park called Daphne, once a sacred shrine of Apollo, had been changed into an amusement resort; Julian ordered the amusements ended and the shrine restored; this had hardly been completed when a fire consumed it. Suspecting Christian incendiarism, Julian closed the cathedral of Antioch, and confiscated its wealth; several witnesses were tortured, and a priest was put to death.53 The Emperor’s one consolation in Antioch was his “feast of reason” with Libanius.
At last the army was ready, and in March 363 Julian began his campaign. He led his forces across the Euphrates, then across the Tigris; pursued the retreating Persians, but was harassed and almost frustrated by their “scorched earth” policy of burning all crops in their wake; time and again his soldiers were near starvation. In this exhausting campaign the Emperor showed his best qualities; he shared every hardship with his men, ate their scant fare or less, marched on foot through heat and flood, and fought in the front ranks in every battle. Persian women of youth and beauty were among his captives; he never disturbed their privacy, and allowed no one to dishonor them. Under his able generalship his troops advanced to the very gates of Ctesiphon, and laid siege to it; but the inability to get food compelled retreat. Shapur II chose two Persian nobles, cut off their noses, and bade them go to Julian in the guise of men who had deserted because of this cruel indignity, and lead him into a desert. They obeyed; Julian trusted them, and followed them, with his army, for twenty miles into a waterless waste. While he was extricating his men from this snare they were attacked by a force of Persians. The attack was repulsed, and the Persians fled. Julian, careless of his lack of armor, was foremost in their pursuit. A javelin entered his side and pierced his liver. He fell from his horse and was carried to a tent, where his physicians warned him that he had but a few hours to live. Libanius alleged that the weapon came from a Christian hand, and it was noted that no Persian claimed the reward that Shapur had promised for the slaying of the Emperor. Some Christians, like Sozomen, agreed with Libanius’ account, and praised the assassin “who for the sake of God and religion had performed so bold a deed.”54 The final scene (June 27, 363) was in the tradition of Socrates and Seneca. Julian, says Ammianus,
lying in his tent, addressed his disconsolate and sorrowing companions: “Most opportunely, friends, has the time now come for me to leave this life, which I rejoice to restore to Nature at her demand.” … All present wept, whereupon, even then maintaining his authority, he chided them, saying that it was unbecoming for them to mourn for a prince who was called for a union with heaven and the stars. As this made them all silent, he engaged with the philosophers Maximus and Priscus in an intricate discussion about the nobility of the soul. Suddenly the wound in his side opened wide, the pressure of the blood checked his breath, and after a draught of cold water for which he had asked, he passed quietly away, in the thirty-second year of his age.55*
The army, still in peril, required a commander; and its leaders chose Jovian, captain of the imperial guard. The new Emperor made peace with Persia by surrendering four of the five satrapies that Diocletian had seized some seventy years before. Jovian persecuted no one, but he promptly transferred state support from the pagan temples to the Church. The Christians of Antioch celebrated with public rejoicings the death of the pagan Emperor.57 For the most part, however, the victorious Christian leaders preached to their congregations a generous forgetfulness of the injuries that Christianity had borne.58 Eleven centuries would pass before Hellenism would have another day.
CHAPTER II
The Triumph of the Barbarians
325–476
I. THE THREATENED FRONTIER
PERSIA was but one sector of a 10,000-mile frontier through which, at any point and at any moment, this Roman Empire of a hundred nations might be invaded by tribes unspoiled by civilization and envious of its fruits. The Persians in themselves were an insoluble problem. They were growing stronger, not weaker; soon they would reconquer nearly all that Darius I had held a thousand years before. West of them were the Arabs, mostly penniless Bedouins; the wisest statesman would have smiled at the notion that these somber nomads were destined to capture half the Roman Empire, and all Persia too. South of the Roman provinces in Africa were Ethiopians, Libyans, Berbers, Numidians, and Moors, who waited in fierce patience for the crumbling of imperial defenses or morale. Spain seemed safely Roman behind its forbidding mountains and protecting seas; none surmised that it would become in this fourth century German, and in the eighth Mohammedan. Gaul now surpassed Italy in Roman pride, in order and wealth, in Latin poetry and prose; but in every generation it had to defend itself against Teutons whose women were more fertile than their fields. Only a small imperial garrison could be spared to protect Roman Britain from Scots and Picts on the west and north and from Norse or Saxon pirates on the east or south. Norway’s shores were a chain of pirate dens; its people found war less toilsome than tillage, and counted the raiding of alien coasts a noble occupation for hungry stomachs or leisure days. In southern Sweden and its isles the Goths claimed to have had their early home; possibly they were indigenous to the region of the Vistula; in any case they spread as Visigoths southward to the Danube, and as Ostrogoths they settled between the Dniester and the Don. In the heart of Europe—bounded by the Vistula, the Danube, and the Rhine—moved the restless tribes that were to remake the map, and rename the nations, of Europe: Thuringians, Burgundians, Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Frisians, Gepidae, Quadi, Vandals, Alemanni, Suevi, Lombards, Franks. Against these ethnic tides the Empire had no protective wall except in Britain, but merely an occasional fort and garrison along the roads or rivers that marked the frontier limit (limes) of the Roman realm. The higher birth rate outside the Empire, and the higher standard of living within it, made immigration or invasion a manifest destiny for the Roman Empire then as for North America today.
Perhaps we should modify the tradition that speaks of these German tribes as barbarians. It is true that in calling them bar bari the Greeks and Romans meant no compliment. The word was probably brother to the Sanskrit var-vara, which meant a rough and letterless churl;1 it appears again in Berber. But it was not for nothing that for five centuries the Germans had touched Roman civilization in trade and war. By the fourth century they had long since adopted writing and a government of stable laws. If we except the Merovingian Franks, their sexual morals were superior to those of the Romans and the Greeks.* Though they lacked the civility and graces of a cultured people, they often shamed the Romans by their courage, hospitality, and honesty. They were cruel, but hardly more so than the Romans; they were probably shocked to find that Roman
law permitted the torturing of freemen to extort confessions or testimony.3 They were individualistic to the point of chaos, while the Romans had now been tamed to sociability and peace. In their higher ranks they showed some appreciation of literature and art; Stilicho, Ricimer, and other Germans entered fully into the cultural life of Rome, and wrote a Latin that Symmachus professed to enjoy.4 In general the invaders—above all, the Goths—were civilized enough to admire Roman civilization as higher than their own, and to aim rather at acquiring it than at destroying it; for two centuries they asked little more than admission to the Empire and its unused lands; and they shared actively in its defense. If we continue to refer to the German tribes of the fourth and fifth centuries as barbarians, it will be in surrender to the convenience of custom, and with these reservations and apologies.
South of the Danube and the Alps the swelling tribes had already entered the Empire by peaceable immigration, even by royal invitation. Augustus had begun the policy of settling barbarians within the frontier, to replenish vacant areas and legions that the infertile and unmartial Romans no longer filled; and Aurelius, Aurelian, and Probus had adoped the plan. By the end of the fourth century the Balkans and eastern Gaul were predominantly German; so was the Roman army; many high offices, political as well as military, were in Teutonic hands. Once the Empire had Romanized such elements; now the immigrants barbarized the Romans.5 Romans began to wear fur coats in barbarian style, and to let their hair flow long; some even took to trousers, evoking outraged imperial decrees (397, 416).6
The cue for the great invasion came from far-off Mongolian plains. The Hsiung-nu, or Hiung-nu, or Huns, a division of the Turanian stock, occupied in our third century the region north of Lake Balkash and the Aral Sea. According to Jordanes, their chief weapon was their physiognomy.
By the terror of their features they inspired great fear in those whom perhaps they did not really surpass in war. They made their foes flee in horror because their swarthy aspect was fearful, and they had … a shapeless lump instead of a head, with pinholes rather than eyes. They are cruel to their children on the very day of their birth. For they cut the cheeks of the males with a sword, so that before they receive the nourishment of milk, they must learn to endure wounds. Hence they grow old beardless, and with faces scarred by the sword. They are short in stature, quick in bodily movement, alert horsemen, ready in the use of bow and arrow, broad-shouldered, and with firm set necks always erect in pride.7
War was their industry, pasturing cattle was their recreation. “Their country,” said a proverb, “is the back of a horse.”8 Armed with arrows and knives, equipped with courage and speed, driven by the exhaustion of their lands and the pressure of their eastern enemies, they advanced into Russia about 355, overcame and absorbed the Alani, crossed the Volga (372?), and attacked the almost civilized Ostrogoths in the Ukraine. Ermanaric, the centenarian Ostrogothic King, fought bravely, was defeated, and died, some said, by his own hand. Part of the Ostrogoths surrendered and joined the Huns; part fled west into the lands of the Visigoths north of the Danube. A Visigothic army met the advancing Huns at the Dniester, and was overwhelmed; a remnant of the Visigoths begged permission of the Roman authorities on the Danube to cross the river and settle in Moesia and Thrace. The Emperor Valens sent word that they should be admitted on condition that they surrender their arms, and give up their youths as hostages. The Visigoths crossed, and were shamelessly plundered by imperial officials and troops; their girls and boys were enslaved by amorous Romans; but after diligent bribery the immigrants were allowed to keep their arms. Food was sold them at famine prices, so that hungry Goths gave ten pounds of silver, or a slave, for a joint of meat or a loaf of bread; at last the Goths were forced to sell their children into bondage to escape starvation.9 When they showed signs of revolt the Roman general invited their leader Fritigern to a banquet, plotting to kill him. Fritigern escaped, and roused the desperate Goths to war. They pillaged, burned, and killed until almost all Thrace was laid waste by their hunger and their rage. Valens hurried up from the East and met the Goths on the plains of Hadrianople with an inferior force mostly composed of barbarians in the service of Rome (378). The result, in the words of Ammianus, was “the most disastrous defeat encountered by the Romans since Cannae” 594 years before.10 The Gothic cavalry prevailed over the Roman infantry, and from that day till the fourteenth century the strategy and tactics of cavalry dominated the declining art of war. Two thirds of the Roman army perished, Valens himself was seriously wounded; the Goths set fire to the cottage in which he had taken refuge, and the Emperor and his attendants died in the flames. The victorious horde marched upon Constantinople, but failed to pierce the defenses organized by Valens’ widow Dominica. The Visigoths, joined by Ostrogoths and Huns who crossed the unprotected Danube, ravaged the Balkans at will from the Black Sea to the borders of Italy.
II. THE SAVIOR EMPERORS: 364–408
In this crisis the Empire did not cease to produce able rulers. On Jovian’s death the army and Senate had passed the crown to Valentinian, a blunt and Greekless soldier recalling Vespasian. With the consent of the Senate he had appointed his younger brother Valens as Augustus and Emperor in the East, while he himself chose the apparently more dangerous West. He refortified the frontiers of Italy and Gaul, built up the army to strength and discipline, and again drove the encroaching Germans back across the Rhine. From his capital at Milan he issued enlightened legislation forbidding infanticide, founding colleges, extending state medicine in Rome, reducing taxes, reforming a debased coinage, checking political corruption, and proclaiming freedom of creed and worship for all. He had his faults and his weaknesses; he was capable of cold cruelties to enemies; and if we may believe the historian Socrates, he legalized bigamy to sanction his marriage with Justina,11 whose beauty had been too generously described to him by his wife. Nevertheless, it was a tragedy for Rome that he died so soon (375). His son Gratian succeeded to his power in the West, lived up to his father for a year or two, then abandoned himself to amusements and the chase, and left the government to corrupt officials who put every office and judgment up for sale. The general Maximus overthrew him and invaded Italy in an effort to displace Gratian’s successor and half brother Valentinian II; but the new Emperor of the East, Theodosius I the Great, marched westward, defeated the usurper, and set the young Valentinian firmly on his Milan throne (388).
Theodosius was a Spaniard. He had distinguished himself as a general in Spain, Britain, and Thrace; he had persuaded the victorious Goths to join his army instead of fighting it; he had ruled the Eastern provinces with every wisdom except tolerance; and half the world looked in awe at his astonishing assemblage of handsome features and majestic presence, ready anger and readier mercy, humane legislation and sternly orthodox theology. While he was wintering at Milan a disturbance characteristic of the times broke out in Thessalonica. The imperial governor there, Botheric, had imprisoned for scandalous immorality a charioteer popular with the citizens. They demanded his release; Botheric refused; the crowd overcame his garrison, killed him and his aides, tore their bodies to pieces, and paraded the streets displaying the severed limbs as emblems of victory. The news of this outburst stirred Theodosius to fury. He sent secret orders that the entire population of Thessalonica should be punished. The people were invited into the hippodrome for games; hidden soldiery fell upon them there, and massacred 7000 men, women, and children (390),12 Theodosius sent a second order mitigating the first, but it came too late.
The Roman world was shocked by this savage retaliation, and Ambrose, who administered with stoic Christianity the see of Milan, wrote to the Emperor that he, the Bishop, could not again celebrate Mass in the imperial presence until Theodosius should have atoned before all the people for his crime. Though privately remorseful, the Emperor was reluctant to lower the prestige of his office by so public a humiliation. He tried to enter the cathedral, but Ambrose himself barred the way. After weeks of vain efforts Theodosius yielded, stripped hi
mself of all the insignia of empire, entered the cathedral as a humble penitent, and begged heaven to forgive his sins (390). It was an historic triumph and defeat in the war between Church and state.
When Theodosius returned to Constantinople, Valentinian II, a lad of twenty, proved inadequate to the problems that enmeshed him. His aides deceived him, and took power into their venal hands; his master of the militia, the pagan Frank, Arbogast, assumed imperial authority in Gaul; and when Valentinian went to Vienne to assert his sovereignty he was assassinated (392). Arbogast, inaugurating a long line of barbarian kingmakers, raised to the throne of the West a mild and manageable scholar. Eugenius was a Christian, but so intimate with the pagan parties in Italy that Ambrose feared him as another Julian. Theodosius marched westward again, to restore legitimacy and orthodoxy with an army of Goths, Alani, Caucasians, Iberians, and Huns; among its generals were the Goth Gainas who would seize Constantinople, the Vandal Stilicho who would defend Rome, and the Goth Alaric who would sack it. In a two-day battle near Aquileia, Arbogast and Eugenius were defeated (394); Eugenius was surrendered by his soldiers and slain; Arbogast died by his own hand. Theodosius summoned his elevenyear-old son Honorius to be Emperor of the West, and named his eighteenyear-old son Arcadius as co-Emperor of the East. Then, exhausted by his campaigns, he died at Milan (395), in the fiftieth year of his age. The Empire that he had repeatedly united was again divided, and except briefly under Justinian it would never be united again.